


Falling Apart

by Meraad



Series: The Disaster that is Evelyn Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Porn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: A continuation of the torrid relationship between Blackwall and Evelyn TrevelyanMostly vulgar smut for the sake of smut. - With a smidge of plot and feelings at the end.





	Falling Apart

Evelyn tossed back the last of the whiskey and much to the annoyance of the bartender slapped a coin on the bar and ordered another. It had become a routine of sorts, one that the man blatantly loathed, though she hadn’t stayed another night there since that first night with Blackwall.

_First_ night with Blackwall, as there had been several more since.

After nearly dying after facing down the demons and the rift, Blackwall had nursed her back to health, even though she hadn’t been kind or thanked him even once. It had been nearly two weeks of her suffering a fever and him pouring tonic and broth down her throat until she’d slipped out in the early morning hours.

Like she did every morning now.

She still hadn’t left the Hinterlands. Each day she went out, fought either Templar, Mage or demon. And somehow, Blackwall would find her, fight at her back until temporary peace was restored. She would leave and go back to the tavern, at some point, Blackwall would walk through those doors.

They would stumble back to his small cabin near the lake and fuck themselves into exhaustion. Then Evelyn would leave. Clean up by the river, and repeat the day before all over again.

It needed to end.

She needed to get the hell out of the Maker forsaken Hinterlands.

Draining her next drink she turned and surveyed the room. Blackwall had yet to arrive. She had to end whatever attraction it was he felt to her. Spotting a man, she bit her lip, he was a good ten years her junior. He had finished his meal and was enjoying conversation and ale with his companions, all soldiers.

Evelyn crossed the room and leaned her hip against the edge of the table. He was completely unlike Blackwall. She softened her gaze, twirled a lock of hair around her finger, sunk her teeth into her lower lip and looked at him through her lashes. “You certainly look like the kind of man who could lend me a hand,” her voice lilted, softer, a little breathy. Reaching up she trailed a finger down her throat, over the swell of her breast, inching the edge of her tunic down until she was a breath away from tumbling out of it.

“My lady,” his voice was hoarse and he blinked rapidly, looked to his friends.

“Just you… this time.” Lashes fluttering. “Please?”

Not ten minutes later she had him up against the wall in a small alcove near the door. Where Blackwall would surely see them. Evelyn hit her knees and the eager young man curled his hands into fists at his side as she pumped his cock with her hand. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t a disappointment that the man didn’t compare to Blackwall in length or girth. That she wasn’t disappointed she’d never taken the opportunity to wrap her lips around his cock and let him fuck her mouth.

She imagined Blackwall would wrap strands of her hair around his fist and stare into her eyes the whole while he fucked her mouth. When he’d come, she’d swallow every drop.

The door opened, bringing her back into the moment. Blackwall stepped through and she turned her head, met his gaze, then wrapped her lips around the young man’s cock. Blackwall raised a brow but continued into the tavern. She heard his voice, heard him order a drink, and then she saw movement, saw him settled into a chair, legs spread wide, angled so he could watch her.

Evelyn had wanted to draw it out. Wanted Blackwall to get bored and leave. But it took precious moments before the young man was spilling himself in her mouth. Disappointment roiled in her belly before she heard the heavy footfalls as Blackwall approached. She looked up at him through thick lashes, her mouth still full of come.

He reached out, tugging her up to her feet and Blackwall gripped Evelyn’s jaw, his thumb rubbing along her lower lip. The young man frantically tied his breeches, stuttering apologies all the while. “So you’ll suck a man’s cock, but you won’t kiss him.” He stated. “Swallow it.”

She stared at him for a moment, the young man darted away and her lip curled, but she obeyed Blackwall’s demand. “The only use I have for any man’s mouth is his tongue between my legs.”

He licked his lips, his other hand sliding down over her hip then to cup her between her thighs. “I’m quite familiar.” He glanced over his shoulder, the young man was yanking coin from a pocket and then he was all but running out of the tavern. “Some stamina the young pup had,” he commented.

Evelyn huffed out a breath but found herself rocking her hips against the steady pressure of his palm. “I’m sure it would have taken him no time to recover. He might have fucked me proper-”

“Proper? That pup doesn’t know the first thing about fucking. You don’t need proper. You need to be bent over the nearest surface with a cock, balls deep in that wet little cunt of yours.” Blackwall spun her around, pinned her to the wall and tugged up one of her legs so balanced precariously on the toes of one foot, while he ground his hips against her ass, his elbow under her knee. “How wet are you right now, Evelyn?” he asked, his free hand now dipping beneath the waistband of her breeches.

Shame pinked her cheeks when his thick fingers slid through her curls and easily slipped over soaking flesh. “You liked having your lips around that cock? Or was it having an audience?” he hummed quietly.

Evelyn could feel the thick bulge pressing against the curve of her rump. If only they were naked, she thought. All it would take was her angling her hips just a bit and he’d slide home. “You can’t deny enjoying watching.” She rocked her hips back and heard him groan before his fingers found her clit and he started stroking.

“I know there are a few others here who would be more than happy to fuck you while I watched. A few lads and even a few of the ladies. One I know has a wooden cock she wears on a leather strap around her waist.”

“Oh?” it was a breath of sound. “You know? She fucked _you_ with that?”

Blackwall made a quiet sound, bucked his hips forward. “No, but I’d let you.”

Evelyn was certain her mind had fractured. His fingers on her clit and those words, the image of it. He clamped a hand over her mouth and shushed her as the orgasm rolled through her. She felt wrung out, her body sagged and she was grateful for the wall and for Blackwall holding her upright.

Her body protested when he withdrew his fingers from her smalls. Despite the orgasm, she wanted more. She wanted to feel of him pounding into her. Her cheek rested against the wall and with half-lidded eyes, she watched Blackwall lift his hand to his mouth and lick his fingers clean. Her inner walls clenched, knowing just how good that tongue was.

She was mildly surprised when he tugged her away from the wall, righted her clothes and took her hand, leading her from the tavern. Even after what she had just done. _You’re just a hole to stick his cock into, why do you really think he’d be upset?_ It was a jarring thought, no matter how true. All the more reason why she needed to leave the Hinterlands. Since Alex, she’d never spent more than one night with any man. A quick fuck and off she’d go.

The cabin was dark, but she’d been there enough times, slipped out in the early morning hours, to know the exact layout. Evelyn crossed to the bed, climbed on it and stretched out sideways on her back, her head hanging off the edge. She watched from her now upside down vantage, as he lit a candle, threw a few logs on the fire and then finally crossed to her. His brows lifted and she held a hand up, crooking a finger at him.

“My lady,” his said in that gravelly rumble that did _things_ to her.

Evelyn reached up, gripped his hips and tugged him closer so she could untie his breeches. His cock sprang free with very little help and she curled her fingers around it. The tip was leaking and she used the tip of her thumb to spread it over the large head.

“Evie,” it came out a quiet groan as he pressed one knee to the edge of the bed, bracing himself there.

Evie. The nickname hurt her heart. But she didn’t reply, simply parted her lips and angled his cock down and into her mouth.

“Fuck!” Blackwall hissed, his fists coming down to rest on either side of her waist as she took his length into her hot mouth. She sucked, hard, and one of her hands curled around his ass, tugging him closer. Evelyn gagged and Blackwall jerked slightly, but she didn’t release him, no, she swallowed. “Fuck,” it was a rasp this time, and he looked down at her, the long line of her throat, working as she tried to bob her head, but her movement was limited, and he could feel her fingers digging into his thigh, and his ass, urging him to rock.

After a moment, he did, slipped his cock from the heat of her mouth, her tongue curled around the tip, and then he slid back in, slowly, watching. He heard her gag again, but her nails dug into his skin, and she used her surprising strength to force him deeper. When he withdrew again, she scratched her nails over his ass. “Fuck me already,” she demanded, parting her lips and flicking the tip of her tongue against the slit.

Hips bucking, she moaned quietly and Blackwall’s vision went black for a moment. He drew in a breath, adjusted his position, bracing his weight better against the edge of the bed before he began the steady thrust of his cock into her mouth. Evelyn’s hands fell away and he watched them slide down her belly, unfasten the ties of her breeches and when she wiggled her hips, her whole body shimmied and he thrust harder. She still wore her boots, so she pushed her pants down past her knees before letting them fall wide.

Blackwall knew if he shifted up on the bed, changed the angle just a bit, he could bury his face between her thighs, lap at her slick, shove his tongue into the heat of her. But he’d have to sacrifice the leverage he had, the feel of her throat opening up and swallowing with each thrust he made into her mouth. So he watched her delicate fingers, scarred and calloused, but still so delicate, slide down between her thighs. One hand spread herself, while the other dipped down, gathered the wetness and slid it up to her clit.

He was utterly entranced by it. Wanted it in his mouth and down his throat. Wanted to drink every last drop of her pleasure. He shifted one of his hands, speared his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head as he continued to drive his dick into her mouth again and again. It was wet and messy, saliva dripped along her cheek. “And you thought that pup would be able to fuck you like this?” he asked when she met his gaze. Her eyes heated and full of lust.

Blackwall reached out, tugged up her tunic, her breast band, made note of the scar across it. It had healed nicely. Thank the Maker. Then he pinched her nipple, and she cried out, the sound echoing up his cock. So he did it again and saw her thighs jerk, her fingers working furiously on her clit. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he crooned, feeling the orgasm building, causing him to fuck her mouth faster, harder. He looked into her eyes again, saw no complaint. “You’ll swallow every last drop,” he said, not a command, but a knowing. “You’ll swallow it, but I’m not done with you. I’ll fuck you with my tongue, my fingers, my cock.” He thought of the woman he knew from the tavern, with her wooden cock and wished he had one. Thought about burying his cock deep inside of her, alongside that fake one.

Thought of how Evelyn would feel, so slick and tight around him. She made a sound, her thighs jerked and her fingers seemed to move even faster. Another sound, one more desperate and her hips undulated and he gave into the pleasure. Felt the rush of it along his spine. He bucked his hips, driving his cock as deep as it would go. She swallowed, then again and again as he pulsed, spilling himself down her throat. He watched as her thighs trembled, seeming to hang just on the edge of pleasure. He withdrew, heard her gasp in a breath, and then he wrapped his hands around her waist, flipped her around and covered the very center of her with his mouth.

Her thighs clamped against his head, a vice grip as he tongued her mercilessly. “Fuck!” she cried out, one hand tangling in his hair. True to his word, he used his mouth, his tongue, and his fingers on her. She lost track of how many times pleasure raced through her. Evelyn was boneless on the mattress as Blackwall’s tongue pushed her over that edge one more time. She stared up at the ceiling with blind eyes, trying to catch her breath while Blackwall moved up her body, the scratch of his beard on hyper-sensitive flesh as he finished stripping her.

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and she didn’t have the energy to dash it away, so it rolled down her temple and into her hair. The man over her went completely still. She could feel the heavy press of his cock against her thigh and her body throbbed with want and in protest. “Evelyn,” his voice was soft, a gravelly whisper full of concern. “Did I hurt you?” Calloused fingers brushed at the dampness and his brow furrowed.

“No,” her voice cracked, belying her word.

Blackwall cursed softly and then he was gone. A few short moments later he returned, bundled her in a blanket and set her to rights on the bed, her head resting on the thin pillow. “I’m sorry. I’m… Maker’s balls, I’m sorry.”

Then he was gone again. She lay there for several minutes until she was certain that if she stood up, she wouldn’t immediately collapse to the floor in a heap. Evelyn could hear Blackwall, cursing softly, muttering to himself around the small wall that blocked off the bed from the rest of the small cabin. It took great effort to shift to the edge of the bed and when she stood she swore her knees knocked together. She’d never known such one minded determination as Blackwall had set to making her come.

His back was to her and the self-loathing was almost palpable. She didn’t understand it. Why this man hated himself so much, or why he would care about her in any way.

_Because he’s a good man._

_Like Alex._

Evelyn held the blanket around her shoulders as she padded silently across the room to him, when her mind was telling her to just get dressed, leave. He didn’t _want_ her. She didn’t want to be wanted.

The mark on her hand sparked, sending a shock of pain up her arm and she closed her eyes. She was no hero. Evelyn stepped up behind him, pressed her cheek to the curve of his bare shoulder as her arms slipped around his waist, and let her eyes slip shut. “You didn’t hurt me, Blackwall,” she told him quietly.

He tensed, stood rigid against her. Evelyn held her breath, waited, but he didn’t relax, didn’t ease back into her touch. _Is it really all that surprising?_ She thought then she took a step back. She wanted to apologize for everything. For her being the way she was. For having ever approached him in the first place. For allowing this farce to continue as long as it had. Back in the small bedroom area, she dressed and gathered her small pack of belongings.

Turning to head for the door she stopped in her tracks, Blackwall stood, shoulder against the wall, arms over his chest as he watched her.

“It’s been fun,” she said as flippantly as she could. “Thanks for the orgasms. But I think… this is where it ends.”

“Where will you go?” Blackwall asked as she headed for the door. He turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder.

Evelyn shrugged one shoulder. “Get the hell out of the Hinterlands? Who knows. Doesn’t really matter.”

“There are more of those rifts, maybe not here, but I’ve heard there are more all over Thedas.” He finally turned to face her.

She shrugged again, trying to emphasize her disinterest. “Not my problem.” Blackwall looked pointedly at her left hand and she curled it into a fist. “Whatever gave you the impression I cared at all?” Evelyn rolled her eyes and yanked open the door.

“The fact that you haven’t left the Hinterlands, even though you’ve said you were going to, every day, for weeks. The fact that you’ve tracked down each of those rifts and done whatever it is that you do and closed them.”

She drew in a breath. “Well, you’re wrong.” Then she stepped outside, into the crisp, cold night and shut the door behind her. She walked away from the cabin, away from the Crossroads. Evelyn didn’t know where she was going to go now. How could she just leave the rifts? What Blackwall had said was true, at least, according to Seeker Pentaghast and the oh-so-terrifying Leliana, before she’d fled Haven. “I don’t care,” she announced to no one as she continued on, the bright moon easily lighting her way.

_Momma_ , Isaak’s tiny voice was a whisper in her ear. Disapproving again.

“I don’t care,” she repeated, more forcefully this time and quickened her pace, desperate to put more distance between herself, and the Warden Blackwall.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure how I actually feel about this - it ended up going a bit differently than planned.


End file.
